


Last Words

by twnkwlf



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Post Season 3, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:19:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9505049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twnkwlf/pseuds/twnkwlf
Summary: Maybe in between counting minute to minute, they’d lost track of infinity.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The song lyrics and title come from a Nas song.
> 
> Interpret it as you will, but I think it's an illustration of Even's thoughts about himself and his illness, and what he thinks it does to his relationships. 
> 
> The story takes place three years after Season 3, when everyone has gone to University. I know nothing about how Uni works in Norway, so forgive the mistakes!
> 
> CW: No graphic description, but this story references heavily to suicide attempts. If you think anything else should be tagged, let me know.

_When you cry, I make you feel alive inside a coffin_

_Watch you when you eat, play with your mind when you sleep_

_Make you dream that you’re free , then make you wake up to me_

_Face to face with a cage no matter your age_

_I can shatter you, turn you into a savage in rage_

_Change your life, that's if you get a chance to get out_

_Cause only you and I know what sufferings about_

**Sunday 02:00**

Sleeping alone would be okay in theory. There is comfort in the unobstructed bed, the freedom for Isak to stretch his limbs in any direction he pleases, to turn over and roll to the other side, to steal the other pillow and prop his head up high. Even is a difficult bedfellow, a chronic turner, a sleep talker. It might be nice, in a parallel universe, for Isak to have the whole double bed to himself for once.

Instead, Even is a ghost watching him, a phantom on that other pillow, and Isak can’t sleep.

He presses the home screen on his phone to see the time, the white numbers against his screensaver, which is a picture of Even, Magnus, and Isak from Halloween last year. 

He turns over, vowing to change the picture to something benign, like the funny snapchat he screenshotted from Jonas this morning. It’s a task he’s been putting off, just like all the other tasks, like removing all the pictures of them together from his Timeline on Facebook, and packing up his things for the move next week, and replying to that text Even’s mom sent him weeks and weeks and weeks ago.

_Hello Isak. I hope it is okay for me to contact you. Even is not allowed phones now, but he asked me to send you an update. He is out of the ICU and getting back on track with Doctor Lunde. I also just want to tell you that no matter what, my door is always open to you. Xo_

He sighs so deeply that his smoker lungs burn hot for a moment. He tucks in his limbs to make room for the Even who is not there.

**Thursday 12:45**

Eskild tells him a week later while they are moving boxes into a rental van.

They have spent the last hour trying to get the double bed to fit, and now that it’s wedged dangerously and diagonally in the back of the van, taking up so much space, Isak is overcome with an intense urge to leave it on the side of the road. A bed this size is a burden. It’s just a half empty thing filled with empty space at night, and Isak hasn’t slept through a full night in weeks anyway. Eskild pauses to sweat and pant against the side of the van. It’s costing Isak a quarter ounce and a case of beer to have Eskild help him move. 

“Um, so, I have to tell you something. But it’s just, like, so dramatic and I really thought I could just let you find out on your own, but honestly no one is going to tell you to your face besides me, so…”

“It’s about Even, then?” Isak asks this as he moves a box filled with, of course, Even’s videogames into the back of the truck, wedging it in between a suitcase and an end table. He bets that if he looks up, the clouds will have Even’s name spelled out in white. He bets that the billboard across the street has changed the face of the model to look just like Even. He imagines Even crossing the road with his hands stuffed inside his bomber jacket, a joint stuck behind his ear, a cheeky smile on his face as he asks if they need help moving boxes.

“Linn, like, _just_ told me,” which in Eskild’s language, means that she told him quite a while ago. “He got out of the hospital.”

“When?”

“A week ago? Yeah, last week. No...no a few weeks. I think.”

There is a long, heavy pause between the two of them. He can’t help but feel a very familiar ache of worry.  It’s the exact same feeling he first felt three years ago, holding Even’s clothes in the middle of the December-cold street, searching in the dark for naked skin.

Even is not in the hospital anymore, nor is he on the billboard across the street, nor is he waiting with his hands in his pocket to help Isak move out of their home and back into Eskild’s shared flat.

Isak wonders where in the world he is.

**Monday 13:20**

“You’ve all seen that your midterm grades are posted online by now. I would like to have seen some better performance overall. A few of you did quite well, so don’t be too discouraged, but the class average is only around 69%. Let’s aim to get that up by the end of term, alright guys? And congratulations to the student with the highest grade, a 90%. I’ve posted their test answers on the course site so you can all get an idea of the kind of work you should be handing in.”

The professor’s eyes linger on Isak for a moment when she says this. He hides his phone under the desk as she launches into the new lesson, logging onto the school website to check his grade. Next to “Intro to Microbiology,” he has a grade of 90%. Pride flashes through him for a second, and then something else.

He never got grades like this last year. There were too many things to fill the time with, and school had been an inconvenience. Even’s hands holding onto his wrists, dragging him out of bed, his textbook sliding off his lap and onto the floor, a beer in his hand, Even’s face coming toward his, filling the space. Filling the time.

There was always a distraction, or somewhere to go, or people to see, or something Even needed, or something they both wanted to do. These days there’s no one there to tell him that the lab report can wait. There are long nights reading chapters ahead, making notes, and highlighting passages, and refreshing Instagram, and marking down the “Interested” option for Facebook events, but never the “Going”.  He’s spent more nights at the library than anyone on campus, probably. It feels more like a distraction than anything Even ever cooked up.

“Hey,” comes a voice.

The class is over now. It feels vaguely like waking up a split second after falling asleep, but it’s morning. Not that Isak has felt a rest like that lately. He shakes himself and tries to pay attention to the guy next to him, who has been his lab partner for the last few assignments. He’s a warm guy who really likes pop punk and weed, from what Isak can tell.

“A  90%, can you believe that? It’s not my grade, I’ll tell you that. Wonder which lucky fucker got it.” He gestures out at the rest of the class who are all packing their things now, or rushing to the front of the room to grade grub with the professor.

Isak fakes a chuckle, suddenly anxious.

“Yeah so, uh,” Erik goes on. “Like, anyway I’m having a party this weekend. I’ll invite you on Facebook and shit, you can bring whoever, it’s all open. My housemates are chill like that.”

Isak makes nice, goes along with it, lets Erik add him on Facebook and says he’ll check if he can go, but he’s not sure, and so on, and so forth. It’s not the first time in the last few months that someone has invited Isak to a party, not the first time he's had to excuse his way out of it. 

When Erik leaves with his stuff, he gets a little strange for a moment. “You, like, _have_ to come, though,” he says. “Seriously, it’s gonna be… you shouldn’t miss it.”

And he looks at Isak as he stands up and pulls his backpack strap over one shoulder, like he wants to say something more. It makes Isak shiver with an unfamiliar, old kind of feeling. The feeling of being watched, of unspoken words making their presence known through a pair of eyes. Isak looks away.

He’s reminded of one of the last things Even said to him, pressing his hospital bracelet hard into his forehead, red faced and crying. His voice was so hoarse from the stomach pump.

_“I need to know you’re going to try. You’ll try to find something else.”_

_“Like…like you want to just…find other people?”_ Isak said, the words broken. He was crying too.

A small, broken sound muffled behind his arm. The hospital bracelet slipped lower down Even’s wrist. _“Please, Isak?”_

As Isak watches Erik leave with burning cheeks and a hot head full of bad memories, he wonders if this is the something else Even was talking about.

**Saturday 23:50**

He’s managed to get Eva to come with him, which is a relief, but she’s brought her new boyfriend as well as her strange and unfamiliar friends from her art program, and Isak doesn’t know how to talk to any of them, even after three beers. In any case, they’re all scattered in the house, speaking to acquaintances and making good memories.

He’s been here for an hour now, at this typical student housing set up in a neighborhood where nearly every house is partying. Isak leans heavy against a wall in the living room, surrounded by strangers, the beer steadily warming in his hands. He’s confronted with a conflicting feeling, a feeling of wanting to go home, but at the same time, absolutely dreading the return to Eskild’s flat.

“Shit, man,” he hears from his left.  Erik appears there, sidestepping a girl who has her head between her knees on the floor, laughing. “I didn’t even know you arrived!”

Erik slides up against the wall beside him. There are people on either side of them, so he’s standing close. Isak can smell the Fireball on his breath.

“Yeah, I’m just, ah…” He doesn’t know what to talk about. “Chilling.”

“Don’t be put off if you don’t know anyone here. Like, I swear I don’t even know anyone here right now. Everyone on the block just kind of wanders in on Saturdays.”

“Every Saturday, huh?”

 “Since we moved in, yeah.” Erik laughs and throws his head back against the wall. His hat moves up his head a little, and Isak realizes that he’s dyed his hair bright turquoise. “Our landlord is gonna throw us the fuck out!”

Isak takes a moment to pull a few big gulps from his beer, and then he feels Erik slide in closer.

“I wanted to say thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For being my lab partner. My final wasn’t as shitty as I thought it would be. I think it’s because you helped so much.”

“I didn’t do that much,” Isak says, shaking his head. “Just… you know. I followed the textbook.”

“But you’re fucking genius, I swear.” Erik moves in closer, leans down so he can whisper in his ear. “It was you, wasn’t it? You got the highest grade in the class.”

Isak pulls away from him and tries to not meet his eyes. He shrugs, and Erik smiles big and beaming at him. As Isak’s cheeks burn, he turns his head to look elsewhere. There’s a feeling in the pit of his stomach that feels half like nervousness, and half like something else, but he can’t tell if it’s fear or excitement. In that moment, his eyes scan the room for something to fix on, something interesting to talk about so they can take the attention away from himself. In that moment, is eyes catch on a sight like a fish hook sinking into his chest.

Even.

Even’s looks at him, standing at the front door with his jacket on, with his Media studies friends behind him, passing beer around. He can hear Erik saying something to him, but he can’t tell what the words are. Even and Isak just look at each other for a few seconds, until Isak can’t take it anymore. It’s like holding his hand over a fire until it starts to really burn. He breaks.

“I’ll be… I just have to—“ he says quickly to Erik, and then he launches himself away from the wall and through the obstacles of people. He heads toward the back door of the kitchen, and out into the cold air. He left his coat in the pile at the front, he realizes, and it’s freezing. With dread, he realizes the back deck isn’t deserted—there’s a group of people out here smoking. Then he realizes that the entire back yard is inaccessible from the snow, piled high and blocking the gate from opening. There’s no way out. He pauses for a moment, wondering what he’s going to do as his heart hammers hard and sinks lower and lower, down his organs.

A second later, Even emerges out of the back door of course, and Isak is trapped again.

“Hey,” he says. How has it been four months since he’s heard that voice?

“Hey.”

Then it’s really quiet. Isak stares down at his feet, despite everything in his body telling him to look up at Even. The silence goes on until Even star coming toward him. Isak’s back is against the fence that surrounds the deck. Even’s boots come into Isak’s line of focus. They’re the Timberlands that they bought at the mall together last year, on boxing day when there was a big sale.

“I don’t know what…” Even says, pushing air out of his lungs. 

Quietly, quietly, Isak tells him, “We should just leave it.”

Even sighs. “No, I... I wanted to talk to you, just…not like this. Not by surprise.”

Surprise. It’s a funny word. For Isak, it used to mean things like waking up to Even tickling flowers on his face in the morning, presenting him with breakfast. It used to mean finding notes in his pockets, drawings and comic panels with lovely stories in the margins. It used to mean trips with Even’s family out of the blue, an hour to pack before a train ride to a vineyard.

It was a surprise to find Even in the bedroom that morning four months ago. Isak had pressed his ear against Even’s chest and heard the silence of the whole world ending. And then, like a surprise, like breakfast in bed or a folded drawing hidden in his gym bag, he heard a quiet heartbeat.

“Are you…” he starts. “How are you, I guess?”

“I’m good. I promise.”

Four months ago, Even broke a promise. He stopped ignoring the future, and instead, he tried to kill it.

Isak shakes his head. “As long as you’re good.”

“Isak, look at me.”

He does. Raising his eyes feels like lifting a thousand tons of weight.

Even’s eyes are wet, nearly overflowing. Isak watches a tear roll, and then his own eyes are stinging. Even pushes out air through his lips, pouted and pursed. ‘I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need you to apologize.” _I need you to come back. I need you to come back. I need you to come back._

“I really fucked everything and…” He sniffles.

Isak shakes his head. What Even doesn’t know is that Isak blames himself. Because maybe in between counting minute to minute, they’d lost track of infinity. Because Even was wrong about it-- losing a thing doesn't hold it in infinite time. Losing it has stripped it away from infinity. Even now, Isak can't find the mirror versions of themselves anywhere. Standing across from him, it feels like this is the only universe and the only version of themselves that exists, and it's slipping away so quickly. 

“You’re not to blame,” he tells him. Isak reaches out, and he touches Even’s shoulder, and then his wet cheek.  

Even clicks his tongue like he wants to say something more, but he lets it go, and then he comes forward, pulling Isak into a hug. Isak pours himself into him like he can fill him up. He presses his cold lips into the jacket over his collarbone, and then Even is holding his face in his hands, bringing his lips up, kissing him softly and harshly all at once. It goes on for a moment or two. Someone in the smoker group behind them wolf whistles, and one of their friend’s shushes them.

Even pulls away first, his hands going straight to his face. He wipes tears, but Isak just lets them fall. He doesn’t care anymore who is watching. It feels like Even is about to leave, maybe forever, and Isak’s fractured heart cracks even further under the unsteady weight of it.

“I’m sorry,” Even says again, and then he turns to leave.

When Isak looks up again, a few moments later, Even is gone and Erik is standing by the door, watching him. He’d forgotten where he was for a moment. It feels dissonant and unreal to be surrounded by these people right now, on this stranger’s deck. A shiver passes through him as he tries to wipe his face. The air bites hard, all of the sudden, and Isak remembers that he’s still in nothing but a t-shirt.

“Are you okay?” Erik asks.

He doesn’t know what he is. All he feels is cold.


End file.
